


I Hear That Voice Again

by elebuu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Masturbation, Pining, Rarepair, cid is so good, for now anyway, jerking it, my gurl off to fantasy china to destroy colonialists, otp, seriously y'all--love this man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elebuu/pseuds/elebuu
Summary: He's tough enough to mind himself when she's far away. Still, some nights it comes on strong...





	I Hear That Voice Again

**Author's Note:**

> i'm here to represent the most underrated ship in the game and chew bubble gum
> 
> *and i don't even especially like bubble gum*

Cid was glad of having lost some of his juvenile ability to work through the whole of a day and a night. Nights had become torturously protracted since she had gone across the sea, the static fussing of her linkpearl more often than not the only sign of her he had. Still, when he was really and truly bone-tired—and tonight things were just so, his hands aching—he left the channel open.

Just in case.

He was additionally grateful that passage to adulthood granted him some quarter against his more primordial mechanisms. The downside of needing to stop and rest sooner than he had as a newly minted one-and-twenty year old was that now he was alone with the thrumming of another need. One he could reasonably bat away and ignore the majority of the time, but missing her terribly and being as exhausted as he was meant that the damnable flare in the coils of his body refused to leave him alone.

He thought of where she must be at this very moment; if it was nearing dawn there, if she would be rising to another hard day just as he relinquished all consciousness of his. Entirely without his permission, a memory of her hair, pooled over his chest, sent a jolt of hot electricity into his thigh. He groaned at it, drowsy and irritated. Pining for her would only keep the little bit of sleep he desperately needed far out of reach.

Ah, but—he let himself imagine how much he would savor her safe homecoming.

Loving hands meeting her upper back, melting away the pain of a long journey. The radiance in his heart as he drew her into an embrace, awash with joy.

The strength lying just below the pliant petal-softness of her lips as he closed his mouth over hers, the silk bristles of his beard pressing lightly at her skin.

Oh.

There were several more of the annoying thunderclaps lancing below his waist, great hot needles that cut him from beneath his ribs, down the viscera of his insides, snapping in his hips.

Bloody hell with it.

Cid exhaled slowly, one arm limp over the bridge of his nose, its weight curiously soothing over his eyes. The other…

He let his free hand travel to the side buckle that held his toolbelt together. His long fingers traced the crest of his hipbone through its silhouette in the leather of his clothing, just as she loved to do to him when she climbed into his bed. His breath caught in his throat, the response becoming a shrill hiss. Though quite alone in the workshop, with every other engineer in the Ironworks abed whole halls and tents away, he would never be able to face the sunlight again if the wrong person overheard him.

Feeling more drunk now than drowsy, he felt for the much larger clasp that held his trousers to his boots, a low and dark laugh lumbering out of him as they fell away with a thud. And the gods— _gods_ —the warm perfume of her skin, her lashes and the crown of her hair as they drifted over his face, a divinity he craved to be bathed in. His fingers slipped over, and then surreptitiously underneath the stitched fiber of his smith’s apron, where he now palmed himself and shivered.

Cid would have doused himself in ceruleum to hear her voice just about now. In incantation—in consternation of the bastard that stood in the gleam of her righteous fury—that voice was terrifying. More familiar to him than to many—and what her adversaries would never have a chance to hear—the low murmur of her comforts, her confessions, brushing at the site where his beard stopped below the ear. He felt the pulse accelerate below his slow-smoothing palm; lengthening him almost painfully against the restraints of his remaining buckles. He hadn’t noticed yet that he’d begun a steady roll of his hips against the resistance of his own hand, and the realization made him gasp.

The thought of her prizing his knees apart with that savage look of hunger and adoration both branding from her face extracted his first groan of the night from him. He curved his fingers over the outline of his hardened flesh, hastily divesting himself of his remaining clasps with his other, trembling hand.

The rose-drenched memory of her sheathed around him as he speared her again and again from the throne of his lap, the soaking sounds as her honey coated him, dripped slow and sweet from her burning depths. He recalled how her jaw grazed the grip of his hand when she bucked for him, how the heave of her breasts felt when they clapped at the vice of his forearm.

Cid plunged a hand past the line of his smallclothes and greedily took hold of himself, startled at the brisk sensation of his calluses scraping the raised vessels and silk of his cock. Startled, and oddly delighted, he thought, and another flash of memory seared his eyes, the swing of her head as she cried out for the hooks of his fingers inside her. He twisted an upstroke on himself, hand scrambling over his mouth to silence the abrupt moan it caused him.

 _Seven hells_. And for some of the things he came up with when he was idle, he would be going to all seven of them.

He was writhing in his chair, the free hand now clenched in a fist atop a stiff elbow on his desk. Gods, it would do him some good to have her strip away the rest of his clothing, and just for good measure, tear out some of his hair as she rode him, mouth poised to drown his third eye—

And she loved him. She _loved_ him. In her immensity and her light, it was _he_ who cradled her heart in his hands.

A voice that was either far away or blown to pieces by linkpearl static sighed for him just as he felt his pulse racing to the tip of him. He wondered if he was dreaming even as he felt the pressure drop to nothing in the swollen growth of his sex.

A louder sigh that he knew for sure was from the warped circuits of the device sent him over the edge. Halfway across the world.

His release poured from him in stuttered sobs, and he no longer cared if his calling reached mortal ears.


End file.
